


Fresh From The Fight

by Rubynye



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Barebacking, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Clothed Sex, Competence Kink, F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Post-Mission, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let this grateful civilian show my appreciation."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fresh From The Fight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmarieMelody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmarieMelody/gifts).



> Written for amariemelody for the immensely fun Sam/Steve Exchange 2015. 
> 
> Title from "[Holding Out For a Hero](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/ellamaebowen/holdingoutforahero.html)"  
> http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/ellamaebowen/holdingoutforaher
> 
> With thanks to Caitri, Azephirin, PotofSoup, and my sweetie Bikergeek for encouragement and advice.

There can be certain difficulties, Steve's found, when fighting beside one's beloved. Or, perhaps, it's just an aspect of battle for some soldiers, he's not sure. It's not as if he goes around asking about it. 

It's not about rage, at least not for him; he's seen soldiers so angry they were actually aroused, has had to restrain a few, fortunately never his guys, his Commandos. But for Steve it springs from a different source, hot elation, bright exaltation, the surge of victory through every fiber of his being, the intensity of life on the ragged edge of risk. The adrenaline rush has a deep purity to it, almost, except for how it gets him so hard it aches, how he finds himself embarrassingly longing to shove his thrumming dick up against someone who loves him and would enjoy it.

He did with Bucky a few times. Sometimes before the war, after a particularly good scrap when they'd fought side by side, taken down bullies and escaped beatdowns, they'd clutch each other, smothering their breathless laughter in kisses, quenching their shared blaze in frantic rutting. Sometimes during their astonishing year of war, after they had each other back, Bucky would grab a strap on the Cap suit and drag Steve out of the rubble and smoke, making a horrible joke like "Just a quick debriefing," that set the Commandos howling with glee. When the shouts and hooting had faded between the trees, Bucky would slam Steve against the nearest trunk, his eyes glinting steel blue as they'd peel their way into each other's uniforms, making love like a wrestling match, trading panting kisses between flashes of teeth.

Steve never shared battle's aftermath with Peggy, but not for lack of wanting to, helplessly longing as he lay on a cot or the cold ground, hot blood rushing through his veins as he dreamt of her skin and smile. He cherishes the memory of the few moments they did steal together, and frantic post-battle lovemaking would've been much too rough and brutish, no way to treat a fine lady, and yet… he always remembers the day they stormed the final Hydra base, when he and Peggy entangled each other in a glance and all Steve could think of as he stared into her warm brown eyes was how round they'd widen if he hoisted her up against the wall, how her perfect red lips would part around a gasp if he pushed into her rippling heat, how her velvety thighs would feel clamped steel-hard around his waist as she'd ride him.

Peggy herself had to prod him out of fantasy and back into the fight, and his cheeks and ears burned as he dragged himself away. And then, of course, he died. He's been better at keeping a lid on it these last two lonely years, at taking a deep breath between the fight's end and the cleanup after, on pushing down the arousal until the exhaustion can finish it off. And all those thoughts flash through Steve's head as he looks up from punching down one more robot, across the wrecked city square, and sees Sam watching him, shining from among a clump of civilians, grinning brightly enough to show the winsome gap between his teeth.

Shock and battle-lust hit Steve square in the chest and cock, staggering him back a breathless step, and he can see the _oh,_ that's _how it is_ in Sam's eyebrow even across this distance, over the heads of what must be his fellow conference-goers. Steve didn't even realize it was Sam's conference under attack; he swallows hard and tries to grin through his confusion just as metal glints at the corner of his vision. A lump of debris tumbles towards Sam's group, Steve's already running up the street but it's like heading into a gale, like before he was changed, his lungs tightening airlessly as he realizes he'll never get there in time --

Already shooing away the crowd around him, Sam grabs a briefcase from a gray-suited older man, grips its handle with both hands and swings it up to meet the fragment, his blue button-down straining across his biceps. One sharp _thwack_ and the chunk of metal arcs upwards into a nearby tree, which starts to smoulder around it. Sam shakes his head apologetically at the gray-suited man as he returns the dented briefcase and gets a rightfully grateful shoulder pat in return, and Steve realizes he's skidded to a stop, that if he kept running towards Sam he wouldn't stop till he'd grabbed him off his feet and kissed him up against the half-broken wall behind him. 

He really needs to keep it together. 

Even as Sam jogs away, shepherding the civilians towards safety, he glances back at Steve, tossing him a bright-eyed wink and a broad grin. Red hair swings to one side of Steve, tousled blond to the other, and he finds himself bracketed by a bruise-dappled Clint and a nearly unruffled Natasha. "Nice shot!" Clint calls, and Sam waves overhead and keeps going.

Pulling his gaze away from Sam's broad back, Steve turns towards Natasha, expecting a situation report, realizing he should've anticipated the smirk he gets instead. "What's the sitch?" he demands, and she just puts a hand on her hip and widens her closed-mouthed smile. 

It's Clint who says, voice bubbling with subsurface laughter, "Stark's already deployed the cleanup force," just as an animate crane leans over the burning tree to pluck the metal fragment out and douse it with foam. 

Steve turns to him and gets nothing more but another bright-eyed smirk, as Natasha says, "We've got it covered," running right over his attempted objection. "Go rendezvous with our teammate." Halfway round to facing her again, Steve feels two hands slam into his back, one wide and one narrow, shoving so he stumbles forward. He finishes his turn and finds them shoulder to shoulder, Clint propped up a little on Natasha, their arms folded identically until Clint makes a little shooing motion with his uninjured hand. 

There's a lot left to be done behind them, fires to put out and debris to collect and civilians to calm, and Steve should make himself stay, but he can feel Sam's presence pulling at him, dragging the tide through his rushing blood. He salutes in something like surrender, Natasha and Clint grin in unison, he spins on his heel and jogs off after Sam.

* *** * 

'427' blinks on Steve's phone and in his memory. The conference hotel's stairs are wrecked, but the lobby is still lined with balconies along each floor, making it simple to jump, flip, and swing his way up. The movement helps a bit, balancing the hectic surge in his blood by throwing his whole body into the stretch and rush, until he overdoes it and tumbles heels-over-head into the wall outside #402.

The crash is really loud in the silent hotel, and he's left a pair of round dents shaped roughly like his shield and his ass. Blushing, Steve picks himself up and cat-foots it down the hallway.

At three paces away the door swings open, revealing Sam grinning behind it, and Steve's heels leave the floor. Sam reaches out with both hands, grabs two fistfuls of uniform and yanks Steve in through the doorway, slamming him up against the wall hard enough to make the shield ring. "Hello, hero," he murmurs deep, eyes sparkling under half-lowered lids, and Steve grips Sam's biceps and surges into the kiss, stumbling blindly forward with Sam's laughter tingling his mouth until something solid catches them, a distant thump and a gasping shock through Sam's body, a shudder that sets Steve shaking too. 

His gasp breaks the kiss long enough to see they've hit the dresser, long enough for Sam to brush raspy beard and cushiony lips down the line of his jaw, fire flickering down his nerves, a groan boiling up. Steve pushes Sam to the wall, leaning on him as his knees threaten to buckle and his brain tries to shut down, and he could sink into this, just stop thinking and let his hips take over, but -- "Sam?" 

"Mm, yeah?" Sam presses his face into Steve's neck, talking into throbbing skin. "You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?" He sucks a kiss under Steve's ear, and Steve can only tip his forehead against the wall and shake. "It was such a rush to watch you in action."

"You've seen me fight before," Steve counters, lips rasping across Sam's close-cropped hair, struggling reflexively against the pull of lust.

"Yeah, but I was fighting too, had to watch your back, not your backside." Sam smiles into Steve's throat, sliding the sharp edge of teeth down the tendon, and Steve growls before he can stop himself. "There you go. I've been wanting to do this -- " another sucking kiss, chest pressing to chest, thigh pushing alongside thigh -- "God, since you tore the door off the conference room. I could've run right up and kissed you, I am not ashamed to say." He does now, kissing a path to Steve's mouth, and Steve groans into it, opening to the muscular slide of Sam's tongue, to Sam's breathy chuckle and breathless moan.

Steve barely remembers herding the civilians out, worrying the building might come down; he can barely think, burning under Sam's hands and inside his uniform, and all he wants is to climb inside Sam, to have Sam inside his skin with him. Sam thinks he's a hero and Steve kisses him gratefully for it, pressing as close as he can with straining polymers and armor in the way, until Sam's chest hitches strangely, his hands flattening from a pull to a push. 

Steve pulls back a bit, their mouths smacking apart, and Sam heaves a deep breath and puffs another laugh, opening shining eyes. "The fight gets you going, huh?"

"You get me going," is as automatic and true as the next breath, and Sam nips Steve's bottom lip, showing all his sweet sharp teeth. 

"'Course I do," Sam answers, bold and sure, and Steve's heart pounds that much faster, "but this's been going on at least since you saw me on the sidewalk, it was all over your pretty face." He slides a strong hand down Steve's chest, slowly enough to be dodged, as if Steve ever would, steadily holding his gaze as he works his fingers under the waistband, his hand all the way into Steve's pants, and unsnaps the supporter. 

The pressure eases, from his dick and his chest both, and Steve inhales all the way to the bottom of his lungs, and just as quickly gasps it all out under Sam's knowing touch. "Oh, damn," he breathes, seeing nothing but Sam's bottomless eyes, "does it do it for you?"

Sam hums, pursing his lips, curling his fingers a little tighter until Steve's ribcage shudders. "I'm more of a fight or flight _or_ fuck. Looks like you're more of an _and_." Like always, Sam has his number, and Steve tugs him in for another fusillade of deep kisses as Sam strokes him just perfectly roughly and works his uniform pants down around his hips. 

The armored material bunches between Steve's thighs, and all at once he remembers himself, grubby from the fight, shield still on his back. "Hold on, hold on," he murmurs over Sam's mouth, and Sam sighs gustily and leans away. "I should --" Steve starts, pulling his shield off to set it aside, "I should clean up a little, shower and --"

"You want to?" Sam asks, folding his arms, because he knows how it makes his biceps strain his shirtsleeves, which is just playing dirty. "Because, priorities, man." Steve thinks profane agreement as he toes off his boots. "How do you usually deal with the adrenaline rush?"

Kicking the second boot aside, Steve shrugs as he pushes down his trousers. "Long showers, long runs?"

"I'm not running another damn step today," Sam murmurs, voice sliding deep, and Steve glances up to find Sam staring decidedly south of his face. "We could try fitting in that shower together," he adds, unbuttoning his shirt.

Steve thinks about big men and narrow hotel showers, lunges forward and grips Sam's biceps, pushing him back against the wall with another kiss. Sam laughs into it, and Steve meant it as a statement of affection, to let go and keep discussing logistics till they figured this out, but instead he finds Sam's arms around his still-clothed waist and his dick pressed between his own belly and the textured weave of Sam's work pants, which he really shouldn't let himself mess up --

Sam tears his mouth away and spins them around, slamming Steve up against the wall, and damn does being manhandled like that feel good. Steve huffs as he lands and Sam puffs warmly, leaning on his chest. "You know what?" he murmurs in Steve's ear, "Hell with the shower anyway. Damn, even all sweaty you small good enough to eat."

"Clean living, I guess," Steve answers, mostly to get to watch Sam laugh. 

Sam kisses him, too, but pulls back as soon as Steve tries to deepen it. "You stay right here," he orders, command-voice sending a heated surge through Steve's blood, and turns towards the bathroom.

Steve feels the air over his bare legs, the cling of his uniform top, the wall bracing his back. He looks down at his own hard red dick, reared up challengingly, and feels a sudden searing wave of mortification. But Sam comes back with a double handful of towels and little bottles, and warm appreciation sweeps through Steve in turn.

Sam drops to his knees and the two waves crash and mingle. "Little further, there you go," he murmurs, stroking Steve's inner thighs apart as Steve shuffles his socked feet across the carpet. "Hello, beautiful." He licks Steve's dick, one long blazing wet stripe from root to head as Steve shudders and stares, then smiles up at Steve as he empties a bottle's creamy contents into his palm. "C'mon, Captain," Sam murmurs, brushing Steve's tantalized cockhead with his lips, pressing two gentle knuckles behind Steve's balls. "Let this grateful civilian show my appreciation."

"You're hardly --" Steve chokes as Sam pushes that lush mouth down the length of his dick, pressing a steadying hand to his thigh and sliding two lotion-wet fingers between his nether cheeks. "Sam, you're --" Sam cocks an eyebrow and pulls sweet suction, and Steve groans helplessly, knocking his head back into the wall. He wants to argue a little, to point out that Sam is _Sam_ , a fellow soldier and every bit as much a hero, but he's so keyed up, all his nerves crackling like live wires, all he can do is grip Sam's shoulders and whimper under the rippling heat of his mouth; Sam breaches him with those two clever fingers and he shouts, bucking uncontrollably.

Sam just rides it, lightly slaps Steve's thigh, and shifts his hold to Steve's hip. "Sorry," Steve pants, and Sam pinches just under the crease of his thigh, sucking steadily all the while, sliding searching fingers deep inside him. "Heh, okay, okay," Steve acknowledges, and Sam hums approvingly, just before he finds his goal, pressing down hard, sending pleasure-pain flashing through Steve like a lightning strike. "Fuck," he yelps, "fuck, Sam, you keep that up and I -- iiiiii!" Sam keeps it up, mercilessly, gloriously, working with hands and mouth to overload Steve as quickly as possible, until Steve, who never surrenders, can only give in. "I'm gonna," Steve whimpers, curling over Sam, clutching his strong shoulders, "i can't -- I'm gonna --"

Sam pushes and hums, strokes and sucks, and Steve cries out from his depths as every strand of tension twangs and snaps, each pulse sweeping through his whole body. Sam pushes against his hip and Steve grabs the dresser and hauls himself up, still panting, little sharp-edged whimpers falling out of him with each swipe of Sam's tongue across his tender dick, until Sam pulls off and out.

There's a moment, while Sam wipes his hands and Steve quivers against the wall and they stare at each other, Sam's dark lips gleaming wet, Steve's mouth gone slack with astonishment. Then Sam surges straight up like he'll take off, grabs Steve around the waist and kisses him, slick salty hot, tugging him a step forwards. Steve goes pliantly as Sam turns him and pushes him against the dresser, plants a hand between his shoulder blades and gently shoves him down. 

"Oh baby, baby," Sam breathes, over the sound of unbuckling and unzipping, his voice a deep caress. "You know how amazing you are?"

"Think that's my line," Steve murmurs, sprawled over the dresser, afterglow streaming through his veins like getting drunk used to feel long ago. He can hear Sam slicking himself up and twinges sympathetically, wanting Sam, wanting to be fucked, but without the driving urgency from before. Now he can wait, now he can relax. His amazing, wonderful Sam is taking care of him.

Sam chuckles now, gripping Steve's hip with a damp palm, cupping his ass in a caressing hand. "Yeah, well, maybe next time I'll get to wreck the killer robots and you'll get to watch me being a beautiful whirl of destruction." He pushes in as he speaks, voice roughening with effort and pleasure, and Steve sighs deep, cheek and chest and fingers pressed to the smooth dresser. "They talk about poetry in motion." Sam sets a long even stroke and Steve braces his knees and settles into taking it. "You're a battle hymn brought to life."

Steve groans, his ears burning, and does his best to flex distractingly, making Sam hiss. "Just doing my job," he mutters, because really that's all --

Peeling back the collar with strong sure fingers, Sam kisses his nape and Steve quivers. Leaning back, Sam thrusts hard enough to rock Steve gasping up onto his toes, rolling hips smacking hard against Steve's ass, striking sparks across his skin. "And you do it well, and don't you look good." Sam's really putting his back into it, voice gone reedy and breathless, and Steve lets each crackling thrust knock air and doubt out of him, lets himself let his moans out for Sam to hear. "Th'whole room swooned, huh, all around me unf, when they saw Captain America, strong and handsome, ah, to their rescue." Steve squeezes his eyes shut, his face blazing against the cool polished wood, as he clutches and clings around Sam moving inside him, as Sam pours a steady stream of praise into his ear. "But I didn't," 

That pries an eye open, and Steve glances back questioningly at Sam, struck all over again by his sweat-spangled forehead and heavy-lidded eyes and bright open grin. "I swooned," Sam says boldly, pushing fingers into Steve's hair, holding him down just perfectly, " 'cause I saw my Steve, my one-man wrecking crew, fresh from smashing robots left and right, lead every last one of us to safety." 

"Fucking Hell, Sam," Steve groans helplessly, warm praise curling through him, tangled up with bodily pleasure. He's hardening again, but he can feel Sam getting close, hear it in his huffing voice. "Yours," he agrees with the most important thing Sam just said, lifting his fingers, and Sam grabs his hand, leaning in over him, shifting the angle, lauching an ecstatic bolt up his spine -- "Oh, _fuck_ , fuck me," Steve gasps, throbbing around Sam inside him, his heavy dick dragging across the smooth wood. He could come just like this.

"I'm fucking you baby," Sam agrees, gasp by gasp. "fucking my handsome hero. Come on, soldier boy, come on, come for me." But Steve can hear the groan rising in Sam's voice, can hear him getting close; braced on his tightening fist, Steve pushes back just so, hanging on through each rolling wave of pleasure, until Sam comes first with a guttural cry, sinking down onto Steve's back shudder by shudder as Steve throbs around him. 

Steve can't help a triumphant chuckle. "Hey flyboy," is about as much sass as he can dredge up, spread out melted under Sam's panting weight, and it's enough when Sam presses a kiss to his ear, plants both hands on the dresser and shoves up. Looping an arm around Steve's waist, Sam grunts and hauls Steve with him as he folds down to the floor, so neatly he doesn't even slip out. Mindful of his weight, Steve drops a hand to support himself, but the impact still makes Sam groan and Steve shudder into a moan.

"There you go," Sam breathes into his ear, pressing that hand over his belly, brushing knuckles down his dick. Steve gasps and gropes around for a frantic moment, rummaging up another little bottle; he squeezes it till it cracks, and Sam drags sure fingers through the spill of lotion and wraps them around his dick. It's Steve's turn to hiss, Sam's to laugh softly as he bites under Steve's ear and strokes him, slick and fast and perfectly rough. Steve throws his head back on Sam's shoulder and lets himself whimper, "Sam, Sam, Sam," for the brief hot time it takes Sam to pull him back over the brink into the long wrenching pulses of coming again. 

Sam smiles over the burning bite, rubs Steve's belly soothingly and grabs one of the towels around them. Steve slumps as much as he dares, just letting Sam have him for a long delicious moment, before he makes himself lift his head, rolling it on his neck, and look down at Sam's richly shaded hand against his pale skin, at the splashes of come all over his uniform up to the star, at the wet smears along the side of the dresser.

"Uh," Steve manages to say at last. "Cleanup?"

"Okay, okay, Captain Clean," Sam mumbles into his shoulder, pushing on his lower back. Steve gets his knees underneath himself and rocks up onto them, straddling Sam's lap as he pulls himself off, and Sam pats his back and puffs a few more times. "Go on, get in the shower," he says eventually, still a little winded. "I'll meet you there."

Steve nods and pushes himself up, turns and gives Sam a hand to his feet, and pulls him into a soft kiss. Sam's wrecked and rumpled and so gorgeous Steve wants to wrap both arms around him and lean him up against the wall and kiss him until the sun sets and rises again, but he contents himself with a few gentle brushes of lips before letting go.

* *** * 

Sam does join Steve pretty soon, and they manage their shower without anyone falling through the curtain or starting Round Two, though both are kind of near things. When Steve follows Sam out to the room again, the air is full of the wonderful scent of pizza, four stacked on the now-clean dresser beside some bottles of sports drink, and a full duffel bag rests on the bed.

"Looks like a little bird stopped by," Sam says nonchalantly, opening the duffel and tossing Steve a pair of jockeys and a tee. "Good thing I gave him your credit card."

Steve has to laugh at that as he heads for the food. His whole body feels loose and easy, warm from the shower and from sex, a sweet well-used twinge deep inside him. As he devours pizza he watches Sam get dressed, pulling on dark underwear, a red T-shirt with a tiny Widow hourglass logo, and stiff new jeans. Sam lifts an eyebrow, watching Steve watch him, and tosses Steve a black cylinder which turns out to be a crisp new pair of pants. Steve puts them on one-handed, tucking pizza into his mouth with the other, and watches Sam cross the room to him and ostentatiously grab a slice before leaning shoulder on shoulder.

"Thanks," Steve mumbles through his mouthful. "You spoil me."

"You can use a little spoiling." Sam takes a bite, a little more temperately than Steve's been eating, and Steve swallows hard as he looks down, not just his mouthful but also the lump in his throat.

"We can't do this every time," he says, mostly to himself. He was lucky today, that no one got hurt, that there was time, especially that Natasha and Clint decided to treat him too.

Sam hums thoughtfully. "Yeah, well, when we can, I'm here." Steve looks up, into Sam's smiling face, and they share a spicy, saucy, easy kiss.


End file.
